XXXIX.

!

The Catholic who hears that vesper bell,
Howe'er employed, must put a prayer to heaven.
In foreign lands I liked the custom well,

For with the calm and sober thoughts of even
It well accords; and shouldst thou journey there,
It will not hurt thee, George, to join that vesper-prayer.

XL.

Gualberto had been duly taught to hold Each pious rite with most religious care, And-for the young man's feelings were not coldHe never yet had miss'd his vesper-prayer. But strange misgivings now his heart invade, And when the vesper bell had ceased, he had not pray'd.

XLI.

And wherefore was it that he had not pray'd?
The sudden doubt arose within his mind,
And many a former precept then he weigh'd,
The words of Him who died to save mankind,
How 'twas the meek who should inherit heaven,
And man should man forgive, if he would be forgiven.

XLII.

Troubled at heart, almost he felt a hope

That yet some chance his victim might delay.
So as he mused, adown the neighbouring slope
He saw a lonely traveller on his way;

And now he knows the man so much abhorr'd,

His holier thoughts are gone; he bares the murderous sword.

66

XLIII.

The house of Valdespesa gives the blow!
Go, and our vengeance to our kinsman tell!”
Despair and terror seized the unarm'd foe,

And prostrate at the young man's knees he fell,
And stopt his hand and cried-"Oh, do not take
A wretched sinner's life! Mercy, for Jesus' sake!"

XLIV.

At that most blessed name, as at a spell,
Conscience, the God within him, smote his heart.
His hand for murder raised unharming fell,

He felt cold sweat-drops on his forehead start,
A moment mute in holy horror stood,
Then cried, “Joy, joy, my God! I have not shed his blood!"

XLV.

He raised Anselmo up, and bade him live,
And bless, for both preserved, that holy name;
And pray'd the astonish'd foeman to forgive
The bloody purpose led by which he came.
Then to the neighbouring church he sped away,
His overburthen'd soul before his God to lay.

XLVI.

He ran with breathless speed,―he reach'd the door,
Tumultuous tides his throbbing pulses swell—
He came to crave for pardon, to adore

For grace vouchsafed; before the cross he fell, And raised his swimming eyes, and thought that there He saw the imaged Christ smile favouring on his prayer.

XLVII.

A blest illusion! From that very night The monk's austerest life devout he led; And still he felt the enthusiast's deep delight, And seraph-visions floated round his head; The joys of heaven foretasted fill'd his soul, And still the good man's name adorns the sainted roll.